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CHAPTER VIII LUCK RIDES THE STORM "Ay, but they don't sing," said Captain Acton. "Give me the song of the thrush or the blackbird before all the finest feathers in the world." "But he must have had some object!" cried the old Admiral, whose face was strongly flushed with heat and conflicting passions. "We shall very shortly find out what that object is, and I shall feel very greatly astonished if it does not satisfy you, sir, as well as myself.".

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"But I ain't, Bill. Cross my heart, I ain't," protested Anson. "Why should I be?" Mr Eagle again looked up at the skylight, and said as softly as his gruff voice permitted: "What d'ye think, Tom, of our sailin' under sealed orders from Captain Acton which the Captain's to read in latitood twenty north and longitood thirty west? The contents of them sealed orders aren't exactly known to the Capt'n, but he told me from what Capt'n Acton let fall, he believed that the ship was[Pg 271] to be carried to another port, and there handed over to a Spanish gent as was a-waitin' to receive her, and that the whole ship's company was to be discharged and sent 'ome at Captain Acton's expense and the wages they had agreed for trebled. What d'ye say to that?" She seemed to listen in a profoundly respectful attitude to the reply of the vision, and then said as though in answer to it: "Your Royal Highness, I am imprisoned in this ship by a man who is the son of a sailor and was himself a sailor until he was expelled from the Service of which your Royal Highness is one of the most brilliant lights, by a shameful and a barbarous act unworthy of an officer and a gentleman. He hopes to marry me, sir, by stealing me from my father, who was a captain in the Royal Navy, and who trusted him. I entreat your Royal Highness's influence to procure my immediate liberation from this wicked man that I may return to my father who will be breaking his heart over my disappearance and loss." Mr Lawrence pocketed the packet with a bow. Occasionally his eye went to Lucy, but he never suffered it to dwell, nor indeed did he seem to mark his sense of her presence by any particular behaviour. He was perfectly sober, his eyes clear and beaming, his cheeks painted with a little colour, and his apparel showed care. His father glanced at him and seemed well pleased, and Lucy owned to herself that she had never seen him look more handsome, and that somehow or other no stage seemed to fit his peculiar type of beauty more happily, with a subtler blending of all qualities of its furniture with the spirituality of the man, than the deck of a ship with the rigging soaring..